A police officer pulled over a car for what he thought would be a simple, routine check. Nothing unusual—just another calm afternoon on highway patrol.
He approached the driver’s window, saw a man wearing his seat belt properly, and smiled.
“Congratulations!” the officer announced. “You’ve just won $5,000 as part of our road-safety competition. You were randomly selected, and because you’re wearing your seat belt, you get the prize!”
The driver blinked at him, confused.
Then he blinked again.
Finally, he squinted and asked, “So… what am I supposed to do with the prize money?”
The officer chuckled. “Whatever you like! Save it, take a trip, invest—whatever makes you happy.”
The man thought for a moment, scratching his chin.
“Well… I guess I’ll finally go to driving school and get my license.”
The officer froze.
His smile evaporated.
“Your… license?” he repeated slowly.
Before he could continue, the driver’s wife leaned across the center console with a high-pitched, panicked laugh.
“Oh, ignore him, Officer! He’s just joking around when he’s drunk!”
The officer’s jaw dropped.
“…Drunk?”
But the chaos was only warming up.
From the back seat, a large blanket suddenly shifted.
A man—who had clearly been hiding underneath—sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“Oh great,” he groaned. “I told you we wouldn’t make it far in this stolen car.”
The officer staggered backward as if slapped by the words.
“Stolen?” he repeated, dumbfounded.
The wife whirled around in her seat. “BARRY! WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!”
Barry shrugged. “What? He already knows we don’t have a license and we’re drunk. What’s one more thing?”
The officer reached for his radio, but before he could call for backup, something else happened.
A loud, angry banging echoed from the trunk.
“HEY!” a muffled voice shouted. “Are we over the border yet?! It’s hot in here!”
The officer nearly dropped his radio.
The driver’s wife let out a high-pitched scream.
Barry covered his face.
The officer stared at the trunk like it might suddenly sprout legs and walk away.
He took a slow step back, then another.
“Okay…” he whispered. “What exactly is going on in this vehicle?”
But no one answered.
Because just then, the trunk popped open.
Out rolled a sweaty, disheveled man tied with rope, sunglasses crooked on his face.
He gasped for air.
“Oh thank God! I thought we were in Mexico already!”
The officer reached for his gun. “SIR, DON’T MOVE!”
The tied-up man frowned. “Why? Aren’t you with the others?”
“THE OTHERS?!” the officer barked.
The driver, sweating bullets, tried to explain.
“Technically, he volunteered! Not really a kidnapping! More like… a poorly planned road trip.”
The officer stared at them, speechless.
He had seen a lot during his years on patrol—reckless drivers, drunk drivers, angry drivers, clueless drivers—but this?
This was a circus on wheels.
And the universe wasn’t done yet.
As the officer reached for his handcuffs, something strange happened:
A police van pulled up behind them.
Four officers climbed out—laughing.
“Hey Morales!” one of them shouted. “We told you today would be your lucky day!”
Morales—the stunned officer—turned slowly.
“What?”
“You won our precinct’s bet!” the sergeant said proudly. “We wagered someone would prank you during your ‘Safety Awareness Week’ assignment. Congratulations—this was all staged!”
Morales blinked.
“Staged?”
The sergeant clapped him on the back.
“Yep! The fake drunk driver, the guy without the license, the friend hiding under the blanket, even the guy in the trunk—they’re all actors! Took weeks to plan.”
One by one, the passengers waved awkwardly.
“Hey, Morales,” the ‘wife’ said sheepishly. “Sorry about the drunk joke.”
The man in the trunk lifted his rope-tied hands. “Props department went a little too hard, huh?”
Barry raised a thumbs-up. “I improvised that ‘stolen car’ line!”
Morales felt his eye twitching.
“You… improvised,” he repeated.
Barry nodded proudly. “Thought it added realism.”
The sergeant burst into laughter. “Your face was PRICELESS! We recorded everything for the precinct newsletter.”
Morales closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and counted to ten. Maybe fifty.
Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at the group of pranksters.
“You know,” he said calmly, “this was almost convincing enough that I was about to call in a helicopter.”
Barry winced. “Oof. That would’ve been awkward.”
Morales nodded. “Very.”
He looked at them all one more time… then cracked a tiny smile.
“Well played,” he admitted. “You got me.”
The team cheered.
The sergeant handed Morales a small envelope.
“Your consolation prize. A free dinner on the department. You earned it.”
Morales shook his head and chuckled.
As he walked back to his patrol car, the absurdity of everything settled in.
A fake drunk.
A fake criminal under a blanket.
A fake kidnapping.
A fake border smuggler.
All for a prank.
He slid into his car, started the engine, and muttered:
“Next year, I’m taking my vacation during Safety Week.”
And somewhere behind him, Barry yelled:
“WE SHOULD DO A SEQUEL!”
